Left For Dead: No Mercy
by MaxLotal
Summary: The Survivors are told by a passing helicopter to get to Mercy Hospital to be evacuated. They must traverse Infected-filled apartment buildings, city streets, subway tunnels, and sewers if they are to have any hope of surviving a zombie apocalypse.


What were their stories? Left to survive, the tales of four wandering travelers, in the dead wasteland once called "civilization"?

It didn't matter, their backgrounds weren't of any importance. After two weeks of facing unthinkable odds and arriving back in Mercy, only to find the "safe haven" rumored by so many survivors they'd met and left overrun. The only things in true coherence or importance to their journey anymore was "safe houses", small, closed-in locations constructed by previous survivors and packed with munition stockpiles; Ammo, non-perishable foods, clothes, keys, maps, and messages left behind to instruct those passing through. There were warnings also, very...detailed, informative warnings such as the last three safe houses they visited during the third night of their second week.

The Survivor leading them, the aged war veteran Bill, was most intuitive of these warnings. He had taken into great consideration the names given to the "zombies" outside that leapt onto their target like a lemur or a grasshopper, dubbed the "Hunter" in the Chicago Weekly. There was also the "Tank" the most noticeable of the entire Hordes as they were freakishly large, sporting giant, muscular arms tan with a nauseatingly fleshy pink color, they were ripped, angry behemoths that crushed even their own brethren.

And most frighteningly, something he prayed his group would never encounter, was the "Smoker", a creature that could shoot its tongue-like mouth tentacle from across buildings and entire city blocks, snatching any random person from any position and dragging them into a probably horde of the creatures, their tongues so durable that the victim could not break free nor could they even breath, and would require the aid of another to eliminate the Smoker from its hidden location. How were they supposed to defend themselves against something that could pick out its meals from over a hundred feet away?

"Guys, look." his train of thought was broken at the call of his fellow survivor, Zoey, a 17-year old college girl with a lot on her mind. She had joined their group less than four days ago, in Glensdale about two rivers beyond the city limit. She was the most inexperienced out of the four, and he knew that she wouldn't react well at the front of the group if an Infected jumped out. She only had two Springfield Armory handguns, which although when put together provided a decent accuracy would do little if a Tank bursted out.

"Hold up." He held his hand up, signaling all of them to get behind him.

Naturally, as Bill examined a curiously-laid corpse in the alleyway they'd entered, Francais, with his Ithaca shouldered and his lips in the form of a contorted sneer, was the first to complain.

He had found Francais shortly after Louis, having a drink in a tavern-styled bar off in the lower half of the city, armed with only an Ithaca Pump-action and a dirty, blood-stained bats, fending off a gross number of Infected with drunken vigor. That alone had made the veteran request the biker join him, a person with the ability, and hell, the nerve to combat these freaks hand-to-hand would and had proven invaluable. Unfortunately for them all, he was also the biggest show-off, and to top that, the biggest whiner.

Thunder crackled overhead, painting the discordant alleyway with a white flash, like a glowing whip snapping over the brick before departing with a cruel smile, startling the three with new, mediated fear of the night air. Bill ignored it, studying the exploded Infected corpse with a keen eye. He put his hand against the skull where a transparent, sickly green gelatinous substance resided, he smoothed it in his hands.

"Ain't seen nothing like this before." he muttered, watching it ooze between his thumb and index finger.

Something was amiss, over the course of the last two weeks, he had never encountered such an abnormality. Out of sixty-two years fighting war for people he had never come to found a grounded respect for, seeing and uncovering some of mankind's most horrible atrocities, he had never come across something that shook him as much as this. It was impossible to count the number of bodies he had fallen during their time in Mercy City, but there wasn't a single zombie he could remember with green blood. The glop was remarkably sticky, even as he attempted to slide his hands out of its moisture, it continued to resist with strong viscosity He knew he shouldn't have been so surprised, zombie apocalypses weren't something humans were expecting anyway, but this was turning from a deceased male corpse to a blatant omen.

"Jesus. Don't let that stop you from smearing it all over yourself'." said Francais with a disgusted expression. He took another swig from his beer bottle, dried his mouth and chin with the back of his arm, then tossed it into the shadows with a corresponding shatter.

Bill rose silently, nonchalantly pushing his glop-covered finger over Francais's right breast, the empty green changed to a lifeless, pale gray color with an osmosis glow as it contacted his unbuttoned, sleeveless arsenic black jacket. He backed away in disgust, muttering curses at Bill as he turned away carelessly."God, dammit Bill! Ewwh, it stinks! Brha!"

"Mrrm....." Louis chuckled, an amused glare dominating his cautious stare.

"They're _changing_." Bill replied bitterly, walking away from the two. He was in no mood to listen to the inevitable shenanigans.

Louis was the second newest member. Bill knew about as much about him as he did Zoey or Francais, but overall emotions seemed to keep him alive. He was childish, very active, and most certainly the fastest of them. He knew a lot about electronics and would generally be the one to unlock doors or get lighting back on inside of a building. The only other important thing Bill understood though, was his knack for finding suitable safe houses, he always knew the way out of a hair situation. This intuition was unexplainable, but it gave them somewhere new to camp out each night and a roof to sleep under. Louis was a welcome member to the team, but his naivety had bothered Bill ever since the beginning.

Thinking, once again, was fleeting for him as a grim, sad wail pushed down the alleyway in an almost supernatural tone. It played abruptly as Zoey turned towards the only door in the center of the alleyway, listening closely as a woman's unprecedented sobbing bewildered them all, her notes piercing deep into each of their own paranoias.

Zoey faced them again, the single dot of dirt on her forehead twitched as her temples furrowed anxiously, "Someone's still alive?"

Her gaze shifted to Bill, who nodded at Louis, who took up a defensive stance alongside Francais with his Uzi waist-line. Bill lowered into a crouch and moved next to Zoey, crouched just as well as Bill pushed the door open gently. He quickly drew his hand back onto his M16's grip and whispered, "Over there." before flicking on the gun's modified flash light.

"Hello?" Zoey asked the darkness, moans and sobs pushed back at her, "_Hello_?"

One of Zoey's handguns was equipped with a flashlight as well, the light beamed over the nearest wall behind Bill as he crept inside, M16 readied, gradually stepping near a pile of cardboard boxes left piled against the wall. A metal grating suddenly entered his vision. Lightning flashed, a horrifying image made Bill's shoulders vault in place as Zoey extended her arm.

"Its okay-we're gonna get you-"

He grabbed her waist with one arm and lowered her firearm with the other. He whispered in a loud, forceful tone, "Lights, off!"

"Bill, we can't just leave her here!" she retorted.

"Yes we can, unless you're looking for chest piercings." he mumbled back.

Outside, a loud obscenity compliments of Louis grabbed their attentions, followed by increasingly loud shotgun roars and Uzi jets. Bill ushered Zoey to silently and discretely crawl back and help them, but a new light flashed his vision. The circular light bathed the distressed female, revealing her tired, mutated features as her red eyes seemed to burst from their sockets. Rage flooded her decrepit face, for the light from Louis's weapon and the loud, abrasive shots from Francais had disturbed her.

Bill dashed up after Zoey, she barreled into Louis and screamed, "RUN LIKE HELL!" as the shrieking of the female Infected chilled the area.

The intense silence broken, Louis screamed as Zoey and Bill came crashing out of the building, leaving him to slam the door as the bistre-haired mistress lunged from her fetal position and swung massive, erect claws at them. A small, deliberate BUMP punched out in the steel door's exterior, Louis tried to breath but spun around frighteningly as five, gangly black fingers smashed through the door and tore at the air with a rotten motion intended to shred the first thing it came in contact with. He raised his Uzi in front of him, in between cries of terror, and emptied the entire clip into the witch lady's arm, none of the rounds appeared to cause so much as a single rip or tear but her arm limped awkwardly.

That didn't stop him from firing though, not until her arm weakly tumbled back into the hole.

"Frank, your left-!"

"Got it!" he shouted back, smashing the incoming Infected's brains in with the shotgun's butt. It flew back as though it were just pounded by a boulder running downhill, its extended arms caught and tripped up more of the charging Infected.

No less surprised, Bill peered into the other end of the alley as a large pounding approached. Three giant knuckles bashed the dirt before them, knocking down and tripping other Infected that dared to draw any closer. A hulking, monstrous beast stomped ahead, flinging another Infected into the alley where it chipped the bricks apart. Rubble crashed down on the Infected mass, but the creature appeared unfaded, and continued to bulldoze the Infected, sparing them the stress of confronting them all and swapping it for a new sense of terror.

"Go, go!" Bill ordered, but Francais disobeyed.

"Stick together, hang on!" he shouted back, motioning Louis to add his fire on top of his and Zoey's.

"GRAAH!" the veteran cried, his voice sounded choked.

He whipped around, spotting Bill's arms folded against his sides and four, long tentacles wrapped around him, negating his struggles to break free. Bill fought to no avail, legs kicking back and forth as the Infected creature was slowly pulling him up, and in time, would surely break his neck. Without hesitation, the Ithaca's barrel leveled with the shadow hanging above Bill, the shell zoomed over Bill and hit the creature square in the chest, making it explode into a grayish-green mist of blood and unknown. He plummeted to the ground, cursing as his elbow dented a soda can. He rolled over onto his back as Francais entered his vision, helping him up with two more fierce shrieks drawing closer to them.

"Guys?" Zoey glanced back for a second, two Infected were charging Francais and Bill from the other end of the alley.

Bill hurriedly got himself up and searched for his M16, blood splashed over his brow and he looked up to see an Infected lying in front of Francais with a giant hole where its chest should have been. To his right, prompted by another shotgun blast, the Ithaca had trammeled an Infected woman and blown the entirety of her neck from its place, the body limped and crumpled on the ground.

Francais turned to face him, smirking genuinely, "Merry Christmas."

"Somebody get a pipe bomb in there." Bill shouted, spitting at his feet for ignoring him earlier.

He watched as Zoey reached into her backpack and fished out a small cylinder with a segmented fuse on its top. He shoved Francais back, letting Louis and him mop up the few Infected that made it past them as Zoey hurled the object. She ran up aside Louis as they all hid behind trash cans and garbage bins, the object spun in the air four times as it beeped, giving off a distinguishing red flare with each twirl. Beckoning it's dismissive sound as though it were some supernatural call, the basic members of the Infected Hordes surrounded it as it made one final bounce off the ground. With a slightly louder ring, the makeshift explosive enveloped the amassing Horde in an orange bloom, trapping them and then releasing them into various bloody piles, body parts and cold flesh smashed against the walls and the nearby debris as the lightshow ended.

The only thing moving in the entire alleyway and the eerie street to the south was the silent mimicker of the flame, pulled in whichever direction by the suddenly calmer winds, balanced on top of a spoil-filled barrel, ignited by a former homeless person and his group members.

While there had been many over the last couple of blocks to light their way, Bill could see that most of the flames had quieted and inevitably blown out, bathing some of the alleyways they had crossed and passed in darkness. With the infinite number of orgasmic moans plaguing the air, the four of them knew there would be no going back. And with all the noise they had just made, there was likely nowhere to move forward to without a Horde waiting for them to arrive.

The veteran relaxed prematurely as Francais leaned against the garbage bin, Zoey on the other side with her legs crossed, arms bent inward, as she recovered from the adrenaline of her previous adrenaline. He sat next to her, patted her shoulder, and dug through his pockets for another cigarette. He grimaced when he realized that he had lost his lighter during the escape.

"What the fuck was that thing in there?" Francais pointed back into the alley, where the fires blocked any stragglers from the other side.

A blinding light covered them, running through the alley and skimming over them. Louis, crouched farthest from the flaming alley, was the first to spot the helicopter moving overhead, Bill whispered, "Get back here." but the employee refused, chasing after the light diligently. He sprinted into the street where any chance of the pilots hearing his cries fled beyond him, he sighed as the helicopter disappeared behind a Geico building a couple of sidewalks away.

"That...was a Tank." Bill explained, scratching his rumbling stomach, "They're angry, raving monstrosities-"

"Did you see those muscles?" Zoey joked, pushing her finger over her eye as she stood.

"AAAAAAAARRRH!!!"

The three Survivors jumped at the volume of Louis's scream, Zoey ran ahead of them to Bill's chagrin, a steady flow of gunfire bellowed from the next corner as he and his biker companion peeled out of the alley and into one of the first non-mist covered streets in days. He spotted Zoey, popping fresh magazines into her handguns as Louis, who was propped up against the rear of a lifeless car. In front of their line of fire was a hooded Infected man, wearing a filthy, blood-collared hoodie and torn, ragged beige khakis, with several bullet holes in its body.

Bill gasped its name, the Hunter, as Zoey kept firing. With each hit, the Hunter's body was thrown back like a cloth against the wind. The creature expelled a final, proud screech that lasted for all of a second before Louis delivered the killing shot to its lowered forehead. Its body landed on another car behind it, a siren's voice responded to the loud thump and held its somber note for all of one, dreadful minute.

Bill ran up into the three car barricade and handed Louis a half-finished bottle of Painkillers, noticing the huge gashes staining his ribs. He swallowed them heartily, to Francais's surprise, and hopped upward with his Uzi equipped. They all formed a four-man square, a strategical defense formation Bill uncovered from his military days that protected them from most to any potential threats that came from every possible direction. That alone would not quell the furious beating of his aged heart, not with the hellish symphony of Infected corpses rising from every pocket of urban society and rushing to this single, individual location at the sound of a car alarm.

"Urh...this is gonna get bad."

"Ya' think?" Francais replied, cocking the 12-gauge's pump menacingly.

The world around him became pitch black, and then with the flutter of his eyelids, he realized that his anxiety and fear was complicating his own sight. The area, the images of Infected scurrying over metal fences, burrowing through gates, and bashing down doors and out of windows appeared fuzzy and out of place, things shifted as he tried to move and listen to the warnings of his teammates to no avail. His arms were numb with patience, the most painful thing he could imagine at the moment being that he knew he was going to die here. Saliva slithered down his throat, curled itself and then laid there, cozy in its warm fold of pink tissue. Zoey's swollen hands clasped his shoulder as things came back into focus, if not slightly, and the retaliation shots of his companions made his muscles snap in response.

All he could absorb was an ominous ringing, and the faint cries of his teammates. Everything else crackled like broken eggshells.

Words pushed past him like stones caught in ferocious rivers. "THIS. AIN'T. NO. TIME. TO. GO. DEAD. ON. ME. MAN."

He wanted to snort back at the biker's comment, but the rapid heat rushing down his spine silenced him. He made himself think, forced a small gasp between his lips, and returned the feeling of his own heart beating to his consciousness. Louis's words came through with ease, pulling the veteran back from the horrible memories of death and carnage around him, just as they were when he opened his eyes again. He could make out the silhouette of a particularly aggravated "brute", rampaging out of the Infected horde. For a moment, though it was impossible to judge, it appeared as though his and the Tank's were locked, the veteran's iron will and the beast's indomitable rage pitted against each other.

"Run or shoot?" Louis yelled.

"Run or shoot!?" he yelled again.

"BOTH."

Infected surrounded them on all sides, except for one lonely alley surprisingly devoid of any other life, sans a pair of gold lines from the M16 and Uzi's muzzles, dispersing the few quicker Infected who tried to prevent their escape. The Survivors wheeled into the alley with hordes of Infected scratching each other apart to reach them, the thick-muscled behemoth emerging the clear victor as the combined fire of its targets ceased. They kept at their pace only to see more Infected pounding towards them. Louis pointed to the left at a fire escape, directing them all towards it as the Tank's ground-pounding heightened, each second filled with a newly-bludgeoned corpse.

"Get to the roof!" said Louis, maintaining his sprint as Francais hollered for them all to head on before him.

He whipped around, Ithaca reloaded, and pumped more rounds into the approaching mob of maddened creatures. The Tank's noise peaked as it made a landing hop, knuckling two more Infected with its gargantuan fists, and hobbled forward on its frontal limbs.

"Come on, come on!" he beckoned, watching the creature with a bear's temples. The shotgun's barrel leveled with the creature's forehead and he fired, but the Tank shrugged off the shot as the bullet merely popped off its brackish hide, snatching one of the few remaining Infected in one arm and using the other for leverage, "_Shit_."

The Tank threw its hostage at the biker, knocking him down and tossing his weapon elsewhere. The creature roared and prepared a malicous end for its victim. Bill spun, clenching his fists on his assault rifle and squeezing the trigger. A stream of fire ribbed the Tank fiercely, distracting it and forcing its attention on him, away from Francais while he stumbled back to the fire escape. He ducked as its arm cut overhead, smashing through the nearby building's wall and disheveling smoke and brick from their construction. Bill swooped underneath an airborn Infected and aimed for the Tank, a thin, steaming ovular grenade exploded from the M16's protruding RPG attachment and bounced off the Tank's shoulder.

Unlike almost all of the other Infected he'd seen, the Tank actually GRABBED the grenade and punted it away into the darkness, lumbering towards Bill as the explosion caught the incoming Infected in a huge blast. The only thing still moving other than the four Survivors was the Tank's galloping arms as it reached inside the hole it created and revealed a primitively-shaped weapon: a medium-sized slab of concrete, and chucked it at the fire escape. Francais had been taking potshots with his one good arm and his pistol, but as the large projectile slammed into the staircase, he gave Bill responsibility for it and dashed for the ladder, making his way up post-haste after Louis and Zoey.

"RAAHR!" an Infected jumped in front of the veteran, only for a huge pool of crimson-brown blood to explode in his face. He heard Zoey yell, "Go on, I'll hold them off!" as she used both of her Springfields to pick off stray Infected while Bill ascended the apartment fire escape.

The bigger issue at hand refusing to let them be, the Tank attempted to rip away the fire escape's supporting, mashing down on the railing and steps with one twisted hand. Even with one arm, its hideously output strength had managed to yank most of the metal rods from the wall, further impeding Bill as he reached the final steps. It vaulted, clutching onto crucial pieces of the staircase as Zoey came into view, shooting wildly into its temple and eyes. It screamed exhaustingly, as Bill emptied his last magazine into its outgrown shoulder region, the bullets spiked downward, but would not stop it from pulling off one final leap, ripping off part of the floor Zoey stood on.

With the grating lost, Zoey dropped her handguns into the abyss and extended her arm, a second into her fall she shouted, "Francais!" as the Tank's dying cries were backed by the angstful screeches of Infected crushed beneath it.

Even as her vision fogged, something grabbed her, three hands hoisting her from Death itself. Francais had yanked her up with one arm, and Louis pulled her gently onto the apartment building's rooftop. They gazed down, astonished to see a large shadow beat the dirt below into nothing but more blood-soaked dirt, the sound of bones and flesh ripping ever-present. It made a startling getaway, scooting out of the one-way alley until it was out of their sight, dead-set to fight another day.

"I'm too old for this crap..." Bill wheezed from ahead of them, resting on a raised roof section. His vengeance cooled, no one had the heart to tell him that the Tank had survived. Deep down, with a sigh of thin heat from his mouth as the wind picked up again, he knew that it was still out there, the Steroid Monster With Two Huge Scars In Its Shoulders, and it would hunt him and all of his companions down to the end. "I shouldn't be running marathons."

"Zoey, you alright?" asked the biker, noticing a considerable splash of dried blood on her cheek.

She breathed heavily, replying between gasps, "_Yeah_..I'm fine...its their blood, _not_...mine..."

Louis seemed the most jovial of the three. Despite the gashes on his chest and sides, and a charred pinky finger, he grabbed his bruised right leg and buried his face in an invisible pillow, chuckling with delight, "We made it...I can't believe we made it!"

Bill scoffed this. He didn't turn out of encumberance, but spoke directly at the end of Louis's sentence, "Son, we just crossed the street."

"Let's not throw a party till' we're out of the city." he said coldly, no more grinning than he was satisfied with the reality of a zombie apocalypse as he at last located his lighter buried in the recess of his green beret. He clicked it a few times, and got a clean flame as he held it to his lips and lit the current cigarette, stowing it safely into his pocket and blowing nervous smoke from his cheeks. He stood, and walked over to the blue marker floating on the apartment's rooftop, a single light illuminating the very dark rooftop and none of the others beyond it.

The whole group was silently agreeing with him.


End file.
